


Isn't that what the normal people do?

by Miss_Voltage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Voltage/pseuds/Miss_Voltage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock picks up strangers while John is out on dates. But he isn't one of the normal people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isn't that what the normal people do?

**Author's Note:**

> The woman in this story is a complete stranger. She is not "The Woman" aka Irene Adler. This is my first time writing a fic in which one of the characters is a stranger with no canon and also my very first Sherlock fic, so I hope you guys like it!

Of course he couldn’t forget her name even if he tried, but it was a moot detail. He wouldn’t be using her name, not to praise her nor to reprimand her. She was just another woman, no one special, simply someone too desperate to be wrapped up in the embrace of an attractive stranger who said everything she wanted to hear. It was too easy to find an attractive woman to bring back to the flat when John was out on his dates. There was almost no sport in it. It was boring.

Not all of it was boring. Sex was hardly ever boring, unless she talked too much or thought she could dominate the venture. No, it was all about him and what he needed. He wasn’t a selfish lover, but he was a selfish man. The game of picking up a companion and pulling her into a carnal embrace was a test of his deduction skills. He used that genius mind of his to read her thoughts, her habits, and her every quiver.

He was married to his work, but the activity that was sex fell right under that category. He couldn’t shut his mind off. Every detail came to his attention, and his baser instincts, the ones that pushed him to seek out new partners more and more often lately, couldn’t always be denied. Being a genius didn’t erase his sexuality. It added new dynamics to it.

His fingers trailed down the smooth, nearly flat spans of her stomach, feeling her soft skin that was slightly sticky with sweat. The sweat was clean, and just enough to make his fingers tacky as he dragged the tips of them across her body. Soon enough, his hands would be able to glide across her skin as she worked her body harder, and the sweat would nearly glisten in the light.

The lighting was low, only shadows and bursts of color floating towards them from the fireplace. He liked it right here, sitting in the low chair while the woman rode him at a slow but desperate pace. He liked to watch the way the fire light would catch in her eyes and lighten her hair, making her skin glow and encouraging both their bodies to overheat.

As her body continued to heat further, her perfume became a more abundant scent in the room. It held several unique notes to it – Italian lime, pear, almond, white peony, tonka bean. She was wearing Burberry Brit. He appreciated the gesture. It only added to the sensory experience.

He watched as her head fell back, feeling her body tremble ever so slightly, her movements becoming more intentional Her fingers gripped the arm rests of the chair on either side of them, digging her pristinely manicured nails in to find purchase and ground herself from the pleasure and emotion welling up inside of her. He hoped her nails wouldn’t rip the fabric. He didn’t want John to question it, even if John always sat in the chair opposite him and surely wouldn’t notice such a finite detail in the change of their flat’s décor.

She was showing the tell-tale signs of peaking. That was the thing about women – their bodies all responded so differently, and yet they were so much the same. What he cherished were those differences, and he watched them like rare specimens. This woman was hitting her plateau, the point where sex had gotten her so very close to orgasm but she needed just a little extra to seal the deal.

He sat low and slouched in the arm chair, his tall body taking up quite a bit of space. His hips easily supported her slight weight, though her feet were able to reach the ground and give her more leverage for bucking against him. He reached up, his hand encircling her breast and giving it a soft squeeze, making her moan lightly. He could have cared less about how much noise she made. In fact, he would have preferred it if she were even louder. The way she bounced up and down on him, grinding her hips down every now and then, had him just as hard and eager as any man would be, feeling his own little death approach. But not yet – he wanted to observe her first.

His hand slid down her body, more easily now that she had worked up a good sweat unlike his own body, and slipped past her stomach down in between them. In a fraction of a second, his thumb found her clit and began to rub it in circles, eyes open and greedy for her reactions.

She nearly shouted, her face contorting into what could have been misconstrued as agony but he knew to be pure bliss, too much pleasure at one time. She leaned closer to him, arms reaching to the back of the couch to hold on as her pace became frantic, fucking herself on his dick as hard and as fast as her body would allow. Her hair hung down over her face, some of it plastered with sweat, the brown, slightly curly locks shadowing them together from the world around them.

He knew she was about to kiss him, and he dismissed it by attaching his mouth to her neck. Kissing was personal, and while this could be wonderfully passionate, it would never be personal. Either way, she was pleased as his mouth sucked at the space where her neck met her clavicle, her body tightening around him and growing that much closer to orgasm. His thumb met her increasing pace, wildly playing with her clit and making the woman shake more coarsely, her moans becoming hitching sobs.

And this was it, the culmination of the last hour of passionate work they’d done together in the effort to get themselves off and hopefully (on her part at least, since he knew he could get the job done) each other as well. His blue eyes watched with rapt attention as her mouth hung open, screaming soundlessly as her body convulsed, shaking in front of him and tightening sporadically around him. Her orgasm broke and she cried out, and yes, that was the sound he wanted, the cry that was completely uninhibited and raw. Her pace slowed as she began to pull through the rest of her orgasm, her body shaking with strain, those shakes becoming coarse every few seconds as a new wave of pleasure crashed through her. He smiled victoriously, as though he’d gotten the punch line to a very clever riddle.

The moment he could tell that she had finished, both of his hands grabbed her hips and held her tightly, forcing her to sit just a few inches above his own hips while he took further control. His own hips undulated quickly, fucking her in earnest to reach his own end, the woman crying out in over-sensitivity from having just come herself. Her hands held his shoulders, fingernails digging in crescent-shaped marks as he ravaged her, pounding into her in a manner that was entirely calculated. 

One of his hands left her hip and slid up to her neck, holding her tightly as she looked down at him with lust and admiration, enough to make him want to roll his eyes in annoyance if he hadn’t been so focused on getting what he needed. He pushed two of his fingers into her mouth and she sucked them greedily as he fucked her, wanting to get him off as good as he’d done for her. She didn’t know that she could never give as good as she’d gotten, but she would come close enough.

He sucked in a breath. It was coming now and he couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. His fingers pulled from her mouth and held roughly to her shoulder, slathering her own saliva across her cheek in their wake. He hissed as the tension coiled tighter, too tightly, and gave a loud groan as it suddenly pushed him over the edge. He held her hips hard, bringing their bodies together as close as possible as his hips twitched, releasing inside her with heavy, labored sigh. His hands dropped to his sides, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a moment to just enjoy the bliss.

“Do you mind if I have a fag?” She murmured, still sitting in his lap, neither of them separated yet.

He cracked open one eye to observe her, then the other to stare at her in annoyed disbelief. “I’d rather you did it outside. My flat mate will be back rather soon, therefore, now is the perfect time to collect yourself and go for a smoke. Don’t forget to slip your wedding ring back on before you get home.”

“H-How… How did you know I was… married?” She asked with honest shock.

“Oh please. Don’t be insulting when it’s so obvious. Go have your smoke. I’m sure you remember the way to the front door or must I draw you a map of that as well?” He sat up, pulling her out of his lap so that she could reluctantly stand. “Collect yourself and go enjoy your husband’s company for once.”

The woman gave an indignant huff and dressed herself quickly, smoothing down her hair as she showed herself out the front door. He pulled the blanket behind him from the couch and wrapped it around his body, legs crossed to sit contentedly to stare at the fire with his own thoughts. This was his afterglow, alone with his own mind and a blanket against his own skin. Tonight’s one hadn’t been terribly interesting or amusing, but there were other nights and other women. At the very least, John would be home soon.

 

END.


End file.
